The Lariat (Finding Justus Series) (9 page)

Thousands of years…

Thousands…

I gawked at Cyrus, beginning at his vibrant features to his commanding height and build. No wonder he exuded such confidence. With a lifespan that rivaled most Otherworldly beings, he was in a class unto himself.

My dad hit Cyrus in the shoulder and he barely flinched.

My head was spinning. I looked to Cyrus, “Did I hear him correctly? Exactly how old are you?”

All three men stopped and looked at me, then my father and Kevin turned to look at their good buddy Cyrus. “I quit counting after two thousand,” he muttered suddenly embarrassed.

My dad slapped his shoulder, “Cyrus doesn’t like to be reminded about his age.” My father swept at his shirt, “Here, let me just dust the layers of dust off your shirt, a bit.”

“James, shut the…” he stopped, looking at me.

I was gawking at all three of them, all acting like immature teenagers. I had never seen Kevin Reese, an Episcopalian priest, or my father with his nose stuck in a book act so goofy. They were retired daemonologists, a job that required focus and a steely heart. Seeing them like this, I imagined these two older men as younger mad-caps, full of life, like Cyrus who was forever locked in his prime.

“So you guys, it was the three of you when you were younger?” My disbelief was making it hard to process.

“Until your mother came along,” Kevin said, standing next to his two comrades and then their faces fell.

“So you knew my mother too?” I asked Cyrus.

“Yes, I
know
your mother,” he corrected me. “And before you ask, I was forbidden to speak about any of it. About what was in store for James, Layla, or their daughter-…
you,
that is
.
”

“So you knew what was going to happen to your
friend
, my dad? You knew Lillith was going to use him, and my mother to create me? You knew all about my prophecy and said nothing?”

He stepped closer to me, “Your turning this into more of a personal conversation, Layla. Your dad is one of my closest friends. We have already made our peace years ago. He does not hold me responsible for things that were out of my control, and I don’t think you should either, but I cannot make that choice. I can however remind you I offered to take you out this evening where we could discuss more privately some of the details that are beginning to surface.”

I had no reason to say no, so I stalled, “I hate it when people try to keep things from me, just so you know.”

“I will file that away for future reference.”

“And I hate being patronized,” I continued.

“I would never dream of patronizing you.” He smiled when I scoffed, “You already said as much on our first date.”

“It wasn’t a date. It was coffee, and it’s not like you gave me a choice.”

“Wow, suave man,” My father laughed. “Do we need to have a talk, you and me? You are talking about my baby after all.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cyrus gave my father, his friend a hard glare.

I smiled, “You’re the one that decided to ask with God and country all around us.

“Wait, so you two are a thing?” Ava joined the not-so-private conversation. Her gleeful smile was infectious, I couldn’t help it. Color crept up to my cheeks that had nothing to do with my own fire and everything to do with the embarrassment these people were trying to pull from me.

I rolled my eyes and tried to shoo them all away, even Cyrus. Just then I heard Ben’s voice break through, “Layla, you know you wanna go, so just do it. You already told me so earlier today. You’re not fooling anybody. And by anybody, I mean everyone in this apartment.”

My face reddened. I bit down on my lips to keep from giggling like an airhead. Cyrus smiled too, “Just because you want something doesn’t mean it’s always a good idea,” I yelled back.

“Why am I just learning about this guy now? James you never said anything about Cyrus and Layla hooking up.”

“We did not hook up,” I hollered loud enough for the neighbors to hear. I buried my face in my hands, wishing I could vanish into the black clouds of hell rather than endure this conversation.

“I don’t think it’s polite to discuss other people’s business. Layla is a grown woman now, and as hard as that is to admit, one who carries the responsibility of the world, like Atlas himself.”

“Thanks, dad.” I offered. But I couldn’t tell if he was being genuine. He was enjoying my distress as much as the rest of them. It did feel good to joke with them. I needed some family time, and it seemed that Cyrus knew that.

“We’ll be fine here for a bit.” Dad continued. He tied and lit a bundle of incense and began waving it around the windowsills and along the walls, “You two go out and talk about whatever you need to talk about. We will be right here waiting for you when you get back.”

Ava popped into the doorway, “Yeah, we wanna hear all the details you wouldn’t want your dad to hear.”

I want to die.

I glanced up and Cyrus, whose eyes hadn’t left my face throughout the entire circus. This was one of those pivotal moments in life when you know a decision you make will change everything you’ve known about who you are and everything you will become.

But it wasn’t the claws of my daemon I felt, but the trembling of my wings as I relented, “Okay.”

13

That night the water was a thick frothy taupe color, and the cemented banks of San Antonio’s Riverwalk was strewn with bright laughter and twinkling lights. Cyrus didn’t try to hold my hand, although he did open the car door and pull out my chair. It was nice being the center of someone’s affections again. It had been a long while since I felt special, since I felt loved.

Cyrus was like the predawn light rising up into my dark night reminding me it was time to wake up and greet the day.

Cyrus was always alert. I wasn’t fooled into thinking he had forgotten about Samael. I knew he had brought me to a crowded place because there would be less of a chance of an attack. But he was still watchful. Looking into the eyes of every passing person, standing between me and any possible threat. If Samael could embody the wind and strike from the safety of Hell, he was right to be on guard.

Cyrus ordered more tacos than I’ve ever seen any man eat. I finished the last of my enchiladas and we fought over the last tortilla. Mostly we just talked. His smile was catching, his laugh brought about my own, but throughout the evening neither of us forgot the ever-present threat of Samael lurking just beyond the fragile bubble we had created.

I wore a loose halter top, my tattoo fully exposed. With the fire that ran beneath my skin I was never cold. I was surprised when just his simple gaze brought goosebumps to my skin. I rubbed my shoulders and desperately worked to keep my thoughts as pure as possible.

“I’ve never liked large crowds,” I looked around me at the throng of tourists walking up and down the water’s edge. Some held shopping bags, others cameras, and all wore the contented smile only someone on vacation could possess.

“Being in crowded places like this is hard for me as well. Many years ago the noise would become overwhelming. My head would feel near to bursting with the cacophony of voices that threaded through me. I have learned to control my birthright. All aspects of it. Now I can focus on one individual or push through the walls of another.”

“I can see how that would be hard.”

“We all struggle, Layla.”

I scoffed, “Most don’t have the weight of the world on their shoulders.” I didn’t like the direction of this conversation.

“Maybe not. But we all have been where you are- mortal and immortal. Do not be so vain as to think your struggles are unique.” My ire began to rise. The sweet haze of our romantic evening had sunk like the hot Texas sun. A cold night air crept in with his simple and strong rebuke.

The sound of brassy trumpets, guitars and boisterous singing came out of nowhere. People began to murmur and pull out their phones snapping pictures of the Mariachi band walking through the crowd. They would stop at people’s tables, enchant the children that stood up to dance, waiting for a brave soul to slip them a few dollars to serenade his date. I wasn’t surprised when Cyrus rose up out of his chair and headed straight in their direction.

Don’t you dare!
I silently shouted at him. He turned toward me raising a hand, silently asking me to wait. I had lost the ability to stay irritated with him. He was so handsome, so sexy and incredibly charming. He was putting all of his efforts into this evening, and I wanted to as well. I had given myself permission to have fun, explore the possibilities of life without Orrin.

Tonight is a new beginning.

My daemon didn’t want a new beginning. It clung to my anger, my hatred, and most of all the final pieces of my heart. The shreds I was left with in Balmorhea over three years ago. The day I told Orrin goodbye.

My face went from scarlet to white as Cyrus slipped a twenty to one of the concho-covered mariachi members in exchange for possession of a guitar. He carried it by the neck all the way back to our table. His movements were impossible to miss by the crowd. They watched him in awe. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know all the women were jealous and the men were agitated. The band followed, not wanting to lose sight of the instrument.

Cyrus sat down, his chair pushed away from the table and began to fidget with the strings. I didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but I prayed he would stop. I didn’t feel like drawing this much attention to myself. But he was not deterred. His grin spread across his face as he held the instrument.

“I didn’t know you played,” I commented.

“I haven’t played in a few decades now. But it’ll come back I’m sure,” he said without looking up from the guitar strings.

With the first flick of his wrist, my heart pumped to the rhythm of his fingers. The melody was so enticing, I was barely able to stay in my seat or contain my wings. My soul flew like his song and my life became the chords he strummed. I knew this song was for me. I had never heard it, but it painted such longing, a kind of heartache that only someone in possession of a broken heart could fully comprehend.

I had been hit by lightning, stuck dumb with a love I didn’t know was waiting inside me. It had only been weeks, yet it felt it solid and palpable.

How could I not know until now?

How could I not feel it before?

His song was for me and I was meant for him. This time, this night, however long or short, we belonged to each other.

***

“I have been playing since I was very young. My father, well the man I thought was my father, the
human
man
who took care of me for many years, brought me a the guitar when he returned from one of his trips.”

Cyrus held onto my hand. I held onto his to quiet the trembling that had taken hold of me. The clarity of the night’s event had left me shaken. He felt so at ease with his feelings after already declaring his love for me, but it wasn’t until that moment when he was playing my song that I could see the intensity, the certainty that I couldn’t grasp earlier. I wanted to wrap myself up in that night, up in him and hide away.

And his grip on my waist tightened as we walked.

“Tell me more,” I dug deeper.

He smiled and continued, “I’m not quite sure you have ever heard of it. As James explained, I’m extremely ancient.”

“Try me.”

“Okay,
Ecbatana.”
He smiled letting loose a place and a sudden accent he had never revealed.

He glanced sideways at me and I couldn’t help but giggle, “I guess you got me. Never heard of it. Is it still around?”

“Few cities have lasted over two thousand years. Its remains still stand, but no, it hasn’t fared as well as Rome or Athens or many other cities of its time. My father was a farmer,” He steered the conversation away from the city with a pained look in his eyes. There was something there in his sudden change of topics that didn’t fool me. But maybe that would wait for another night.

“How did you discover your birthright?”

“Actually, it was a friend of my fathers who took me away at an early age. My father and he both agreed I was not cut out for farming. They both saw a level of intelligence within me. My parents were blessed with many sons, so this scholar who also happened to be a daemonologist, took me in and helped me through it as best he could.”

“And who was this masked man? Was he a famous scholar?”

“Yes, actually. Have you heard of Herodotus?”

I scoffed, “Uh, yeah. Are you serious? You got to learn under one of the most famous historians of Persian Empire.”

“Well, he was technically Greek.”

“Wait, you’re Greek?” My eyes went to his long fair hair and clear blue eyes. “I’m going to have to just Google you later. An ancient Persian man with blonde hair and a follower of Herodotus. I’m sure there will be a reference of you in there somewhere.

He hedged a bit rubbing the back of his neck, “There are a few references, but remember I was a different man then. I lacked guidance. I was ruthless and power-hungry. I was too wrapped up in my abilities, in my own birthright. I forgot my true purpose. I forgot the Almighty.”

“Oh, yeah,” I paused thinking of my own recent debauchery, “That’s easy to do, I guess.”

“We are human, after all.” He smiled.

“I’m only a third, if you’re going to get technical.”

“And I’m half. With that being said, you can understand that my coloring made me stand out considerably among the Persians.”

“Herodotus took me in and introduced me to an angel who saw me through the toughest transitions of my birthright. It was only after my teacher had died, and I had spent a lifetime conquering and killing that I came back to this angel and sought the answers my soul so desperately needed. She helped me learn to focus my thoughts to push out voices that crowded my mind. Actually, you know this angel rather well.”

“I do?” Having only met three angels in my life, I didn’t like the direction of his story.

“I have known your mother,
Layla
, for most of my life. She came to me and claimed me as one of the Almighty’s own.”

I jerked my hand free of his and stopped in mid-stride. “She came? She claimed you?”

What? No. Just…no. Please no! That’s just gross!

Cyrus laughed a loud booming sound. Looked up at me and laughed more. He was making fun of me now. Waves of contentment and joy rolled off him with every laugh. It was impossible to stay irked at an angel, but exasperation was doable. He saw my irritation, the thoughts of my mother had quickly killed the romantic haze. But what if? I shook off the thought and turned to walk down the rambling path without him.

I made it only three steps before he caught my hand, “You and I are not siblings,” he still laughed, “but I’m glad the thought was so revolting to you. My father is an angel, one I have never met. To this day I do not know who he is.”

“Oh good,” I breathed out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, “Not about your father. I mean the part about us not being related. That would be new levels of weird.”

“Daemons mark their offspring,” he trailed his fingers down the tattoo on my neck, bringing goosebumps in their wake, “Angels don’t. They have wings.”

“I’d like to see yours sometime,” my voice dropped to a husky whisper with the image.

“I’d like to show them to you.”

We walked on, my thoughts fueled with the man beside me, my own sexy doting angel. We came to a bridge overhead- a thick stone street above covered the river and us below. We stood in the darkness below, the river, the people, and the world passing us by.

Cyrus pulled me to the farthest corner away from prying eyes. He held me close. My thoughts swam and my body ignited from within. I tried to pull it in, I didn’t want to light the night and ruin our moment like I had done previously. I wasn’t ready then. I was ready now. I wanted him and I wanted him to know it.

He looked down into my eyes and I held onto his arms. He pulled me tighter, his hand splayed across my lower back. He pressed me to him, hard and soft in the most wonderful ways. My daemon grappled down inside me, silently revolting. I had found a power I didn’t know was within me. It was no match for Cyrus or the lust that was flowing through me like liquid fire.

Never had a moment existed before that was so infinite, so eternal, so perfectly emblazoned on my brain. I would live a thousand years and still not forget the exact contours of his face or the matching beat of both our hearts. I needed Cyrus and from the longing in the song he played, his need had been growing for far too long.

“You are so beautiful,” His
fingers
traced the contours of my face, ending at my lips. My eyes closed on their own.

“I need you to kiss me,” I admitted. I had never needed anything like I needed his lips on mine.

His head dipped closer to mine and I raised my mouth to his, waiting for his kiss. I reached around to pull his head closer to mine. His other hand left my waist and made a trail up my body to my face. I leaned into his hand drawing the love from his touch. He traced my lip with his finger drawing out this moment for as long as possible.

His mouth was a breath away from meeting me when I could feel his body tense. He looked up suddenly from me, sensing something that I was oblivious to. At that moment I didn’t care about Samael, Lillith, or even if my father was standing over my shoulder. I wanted Cyrus to damn them all and
kiss me
. I tired pulling his head back toward mine, but he was undeterred, a statue of virtue. He wrapped his arm around me in a protective gesture, keeping me close.

“We seem to have an audience.” He said, his jaw clenched.

“I don’t care,” I admitted.

Cyrus smiled slightly, “You will.” His gentleman’s façade back in place. His eyes moved above my head toward the opposite side of the river.

I followed his gaze and my stomach sank to my feet. The world fell away and I was left without anything to stand on. I stepped away from Cyrus and moved toward him.

“Orrin,” It sounded like a question.

But he just stared at me. That beautiful face, now full of contempt. He was wearing my ring around his neck. Had he come for me? But before I could think anymore he turned and vanished, jumping somewhere unknown and away from me. I looked back at Cyrus whose eyes flashed with confusion and terror of their own.